


Day Eight, Candles

by otps_are_hard_work



Series: Advent calender [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Developing Relationship, Jim Moriarty - Freeform, M/M, Short One Shot, sebastian moran - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otps_are_hard_work/pseuds/otps_are_hard_work
Summary: Sebastian huffed lightly, taking the container from the others hand, smelling it again. It was different, he supposed. It reminded him of the time him and his brother had found the amber bottle of whiskey his Pa use to hide, taking it in turns to gasp and curse about the taste."Like vomit." Sebastian decided





	Day Eight, Candles

**Author's Note:**

> remember when I uploaded these everyday? yeah, me neither pal xx  
> (love you)

Jim was stressed, signs were spread around the flat, and easy to pick up on. 

Research papers littered on most surfaces, the alphabetical and date order long forgotten. Sebastian had to move a pile of crime scene photographs of a dismemberment to get to the kettle this morning. Then there was the mess the other was in when it came to the killings. Normally Boss saw it as a detailed and balanced dance, weaving in details and intricacies only a few could ever pick up, but the other male liked the allure of being caught. Now he was just ordering Sebastian to get rid of anyone who pissed him off, including a worker who made a spelling mistake in his monthly report. It was probably something to do with that Mycroft character, he'd been growing into a bigger pain in Jim's side for a while now. 

Normally (though there was rarely a 'normally' when it came to his Boss) Sebastian would be worried. Not for others, it was more of a selfish concern. He was the one that had to live with the ticking time bomb after all. But Jim still carried a certain softness in his tone when they spoke. Sebastian had even made a special effort on his last job to neatly carve 'M' into the victims chest. That earnt him a small smile from the other, a small comment on his improving calligraphy.  

 

It all came to head with what Sebastian saw as the final sure sign the other was stressed about something. Impulsive online purchases. The large box he had been sent to pick up was threatening to slip from his grasp, and Sebastian was struggling not to curse and swear when he finally managed to stagger into Jims office. He was genuinely clueless to what has been ordered this time, and Jim's narrow gaze made him uncertain if he wanted to ask. 

"Took you long enough."

Sebastian managed to hold his tongue, instead nodding with a tight smile. Git. 

He also knew better than to comment on Jim's disordered appearance. Hair wild, with a soft curl at the edge that came with dragging his fingers through the dark strands. It had the habit of falling into the others face when he lent forward, especially when it wasn't neatly combed back. Jim had succeeded in wearing a suit, and it had been the first time in a while he hadn't seen the other softly clad in the grey shirt he had 'given' him. It was nice, seeing his Boss back in some form. 

"What you orderin' now Boss?" Sebastian asked then, deciding that Jim was unlikely to punish him for such a question, he couldn't see any weapons close by either. Jim just hummed lightly in response, producing a small knife with a flourish (Where the hell did he hide the knife?) and waving it at Sebastian. The other took it, carefully using it to split the tape on top of the box. After waiting for Jim to give him a brief nod, he pushed aside the cardboard flaps, a single eyebrow rising as he lifted a glass container.

"Candles?"

"Good to see you still have keen observation skills." Jim drawled, plucking the candle from Sebastian's hand, gesturing at the chair he was standing beside. "Sit."

 

***

Sebastian couldn't help but think that if one of Jim's little workers was to walk in now, they would probably view Jim, and him, in a less threatening light. His Boss had ditched his suit jacket, the crisp white shirt underneath wrinkled, the sleeves shoved up over his elbows. It was almost... Intimate, seeing Jim disregard his neat folds and sharp lines. The desk, usually reserved for reports and plans, had been swept clear, and was now covered in a small army of glass containers.

Sebastian was snapped away from his curious glances, Jim impatiently wiggling the candle in his hand.  

"What about this one?" Jim asked, clearly frustrated he hadn't commented yet. Sebastian obediently lent forward, wondering why he was being asked when he was just going to say the same thing.  

"It smells the-"

"If you say the same, I will carve your tongue out." That stopped him short. Sebastian huffed lightly, taking the container from the others hand, smelling it again. It was different, he supposed. It reminded him of the time him and his brother had found the amber bottle of whiskey his Pa use to hide, taking it in turns to gasp and curse about the taste.  

"Like vomit." Sebastian decided then, twisting the container to see the metallic label. 'Midnight mass'? He briefly wondered if Jim would stab him for suggesting that the smell was probably accurate for the services he would have gone to in Ireland. He decided it wasn't worth the risk.

Jim grabbed the candle back, carelessly tossing it to the side, the heavy wax landing on the floor with a heavy 'thud', joining several others that Jim had disagreed with.  Well, looked like he was right not to make his little joke. By the time he had looked back, Jim was already thrusting another candle forward, and Sebastian didn't need prompting this time to lean forward and inhale.  Surprisingly, this one was a lot nicer. It remaindered him a little of... Chutney, spiced and fruity.

"Apple?"  He guessed then, taking another smell to be sure. That was clearly the answer Jim was looking for, a small smile flickering over his lips, the candle being placed back on the desk, joining the significantly smaller collection of 'approved' scents. 

"Spiced Winter night, close."

 

***

 It was after this strange interaction that Jim started to be more like... Jim again. 

The papers when back into order, and whilst Sebastian didn't mind looking through various photos of decomposition with his morning coffee, it was something he found he didn't miss. 

What he did find he missed however, was the simple violence of the old jobs. Now he had to continue making art scenes out of a killing. Jim made him study French so he could accurately leave a cryptic message behind. 

One thing that did change was the smell of the flat. 

After every job, Sebastian would walk into what could only be called a 'haze' of scent. He couldn't complain though, but something was reassuring about seeing Jim all loose limbed, a small twist of a smile balancing on the corner of his lips. If he had known the way to knock Jim out of his murder slumps,  he would have brought candles months ago.


End file.
